


Drunk in Love

by sergeantwinter



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Drunk Sex, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-25 10:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9815747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sergeantwinter/pseuds/sergeantwinter
Summary: "Steve awoke slowly, blinking against the soft sunbeams streaming in through the window. Groaning, he rolled over, intending to bury his head in his pillow. Instead his head connected with something solid and warm, and the events of the previous night came flooding back to him. What was the protocol for the morning after drunkenly screwing your best friend?"When Bucky gets left at the alter, Steve will do whatever he can to make him feel better. What happens leaves a rift in their friendship, but will they be able to recover and make their relationship stronger than ever?





	1. Chapter 1

**11:45 AM**

“How do I look?”

“Like a million bucks, Buck,” Steve answered, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. Bucky exhaled a laugh and anxiously smoothed down his tie. Striding over to Steve he enveloped him in a hug, one hand clasped on the back of his neck. If Steve returned the embrace a little too tightly Bucky didn’t mention it.

“Thanks for everything, Stevie,” Bucky murmured. Steve's heart leapt into his throat.

“Quit talking like you're about to die; you're only getting married.” Steve clapped Bucky on the back before pulling away.

“I still can't believe it.” Bucky grinned, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Well, let’s get this show on the road!”

 

**12:45 PM**

“Where is she? Didn’t anybody check that she was here?” Bucky’s voice was shaking.

“I’ll try her cell again,” Steve replied, trying not to let panic slip into his own voice. “Everything will be fine, Buck.”

 

**2 PM**

“It’s over, isn’t it?”

 

***

 

“I mean, I'm a nice guy! I don’t deserve this!” Bucky was staring down the rim of a bottle of vodka, forlorn. They’d migrated from the bar to Steve's apartment when Bucky threatened to start a fight with one of the other patrons. Bucky pleaded with Steve to stop at the liquor store on the way home and Steve had folded – he would do anything to make Bucky happy.

“Slow down, Buck,” Steve warned. “You're going to feel like shit tomorrow if you keep drinking like that.” Steve plucked the bottle out of Bucky’s loose grip, taking a swig himself before placing it on the table.

“Don’t think I can feel any worse than this, pal,” Bucky replied, sinking down into the couch. It pained Steve to see his best friend like this, especially when he’d experienced such heartache himself.

Steve had been in love with Bucky for as long as he could remember. There was never a realisation; it hadn't been a slow descent or a sudden rush of emotion, Steve just knew. Bucky was the one who made him laugh, who was patched him up when he was hurt, who made Steve’s heart flutter every time he smiled. Bucky felt like home.

Steve _did_ realise that he was bisexual, when he was fifteen. He mentioned it to Bucky in passing; neither of them made a big deal about it, but now Bucky teased him mercilessly about flirting with _everyone._ “I _knew_ you were flirting with Tony in chemistry. You're so predictable, Rogers.” Steve feigned annoyance, pushing Bucky’s shoulder. Over a decade later and Bucky was still seemingly none the wiser about how Steve felt.

Steve sighed, pulled out of his nostalgia by Bucky’s murmurs. He moved to sit next to Bucky on the couch, putting an arm around his shoulders. Bucky leaned into him, pillowing his head on Steve’s chest.

“Do you think she ever really loved me?”

“I can't say, Buck.” Steve rested his cheek on the crown of Bucky’s head.

“I must’ve done something wrong…” Bucky frowned, slipping into his own thoughts.

“Hey,” Steve whispered. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Buck. You couldn’t have done anything different.”

“You still love me, right?” Steve made a soft noise, _yes. Always._ Bucky didn’t respond except to shift next to Steve, repositioning himself. After a moment or two, Steve felt hesitant lips press against his neck. Bucky’s lips. Steve stiffened, eyes widening in shock.

“Bucky –” Bucky’s movement was more assured, more insistent now. Steve didn’t know how to react, his brain muddled by alcohol and confusion, until he felt a hand on his thigh. He grabbed Bucky’s wrist before he could go any further. “Bucky, stop. You don’t want this.”

Bucky looked hurt. “But you love me.”

“Not – not like that.”

“I know how you feel about me, Steve. Seen the way you look at me.” His words were beginning to slur together. “Come on, Stevie…”

Steve balked at the nickname. A thousand different thoughts raced through his mind, criss-crossing and cutting each other off. Had Bucky actually known all this time? Did Bucky feel the same way? If Steve didn’t do something now, would he ever get another opportunity?

Steve was ineffably human, and he was selfish. With liquid courage urging him on, Steve grabbed Bucky’s face in both hands and sealed their mouths together, clumsy and desperate. Bucky made a muffled sound of surprise before covering one of Steve’s hands with his own, meting into the kiss. After a moment he fisted a hand in Steve's shirt and broke the kiss, standing up from the couch and pulling Steve with his. Steve let himself be pulled up, keeping his hands on Bucky until they reached the bedroom.

 

Steve awoke slowly, blinking against the soft sunbeams streaming in through the window. Groaning, he rolled over, intending to bury his head in his pillow. Instead his head connected with something solid and warm, and the events of the previous night came flooding back to him. What was the protocol for the morning after drunkenly screwing your best friend?

Despite his nerves, Steve couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Bucky sprawled out next to him. He looked peaceful. Feeling hopeful Steve pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder. Bucky tensed immediately, and Steve felt his heart sink like a lead weight.

“Morning,” Steve said tentatively as Bucky sat up.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I’m gonna take a shower.” Steve let him go without a further attempt at conversation, and climbed out of bed himself. He slipped on a clean pair of underwear and headed into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. After he had finished his first cup, he rummaged in the fridge and pulled out eggs and bacon, and set them both to frying, pouring another cup of coffee for himself. The cup he’d poured for Bucky was getting cold, and Steve was beginning to get antsy. Steve was about to pour himself a third cup of coffee when Bucky emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a pair of Steve's sweatpants and one of the t-shirts he kept at Steve's place. Steve smiled as he flipped the food onto a plate.

“Hungry?” he asked, trying to keep his voice as light possible.

“I think I'm just going to take off,” Bucky replied, rubbing his arm absentmindedly. “Thanks for yesterday, Steve. I'm grateful to have you as a friend.” His tone was bland, his words rehearsed, and he seemed to stress the word _friend_ ; Steve wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not.

“Anytime, Buck.”

Bucky nodded and turned towards the door. As he stepped out he turned back towards Steve as though to say something more, but thought the better of it. He closed the door, and Steve let out a frustrated sigh. Steve tipped the plate of breakfast into the garbage and headed back into his room.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve's phone vibrated on the countertop and the speed with which he moved to grab it almost broke the sound barrier.

A week after his night with Bucky, Steve was a nervous wreck. It was rare that he didn’t speak to Bucky for a day, let alone an entire week. It wasn’t for lack of trying – Steve had messaged Bucky the evening of, and the next day. When there was no reply, he guessed that Bucky just needed some space. Some alone time would help Steve as well. He’d spent the past week drawing profusely, running laps around the city, he even tried his hand at baking – anything to occupy his mind and prevent him from overanalysing that night.

Steve sucked in a breath; the text was from Bucky.

_From: Bucky_

_I left my suit at your place. Natasha will come pick it up later if that’s okay._

_To: Bucky_

_Totally fine. Hope you're okay x_

He’d added the kiss as an afterthought.

 

*

 

Despite having a key to Steve’s apartment, Natasha always knocked, even when Steve was expecting her.

“How come Bucky sent you?” Steve asked, one hand gripping the doorframe.

“Hi, Natasha, haven’t seen you in a while, how are you?” Natasha responded, her tone droll. “Oh, I'm fine, Steve, thanks for asking. I brought takeout.” She raised the plastic bag in her hand to illustrate her point before ducking under Steve's arm and heading into the kitchen.

“It’s two in the afternoon, Nat. I already ate.”

“Well that’s nice, Steve, but I haven’t eaten since I got back from Budapest yesterday. Besides, you could stand to gain a few pounds – you’ve been looking a little thin lately.” She raised her eyebrows, trying to play innocent, but she could help the smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Steve rolled his eyes and grabbed a carton of food, sitting down at the table.

Steve poked at the food with his chopsticks, twisting the noodles without picking them up. “So?”

“So.”

“Natasha,” Steve almost whined, childish.

Natasha sighed and put down her own utensils.  “He just needs time, Steve. You’ve had years to process your feelings, but this is brand new for him.”

Steve made a face, still playing with his food. Natasha had confirmed his ideas that Bucky just needed space, but this didn’t reassure him like he'd hoped. “I'm worried about him.”

“He’s a big boy, Steve, he can take care of himself.” Natasha reached across the table to squeeze his hand. “He’ll talk to you when he’s ready.”

“What if he’s never ready?”

Natasha shrugged. “Don’t overthink it, Steve.” They ate in silence for a few minutes.

“So how was Budapest?”

Natasha made a noise of exaggerated noise of disgust and rolled her eyes. “Terrible,” she grinned.

 

*

 

Steve woke with a start, slumped against the arm of the couch. Natasha was gone; it was still light outside so he couldn’t have been asleep from long. Disoriented, he made his way to his room and collapsed on his bed without even changing, letting his arm hang over the side. He could feel himself slipping back into unconsciousness when he fingers brushed something cold on the floor. Steve reached his hand further under the bed and came up with a watch – Bucky’s watch. Natasha had said that Bucky needed time, but what harm could returning his watch do?

 

Steve parked his bike on the curb and took a deep breath before walking up to Bucky’s door, watch in hand. Steve knocked twice, and he could hear Bucky begin to speak, his voice growing louder as he approached the door.

“Did you get milk like I – Oh. Hi, Steve.” Bucky looked like a deer caught in headlights; Bucky wasn’t wearing a shirt. Steve shoved ones of his hands into his jacket, trying to make himself appear more casual, less intrusive. He thrust his other hand forward, displaying the watch.

“I found your watch under my… Uh, at my place. Thought you might want it back.”

“I hadn't even noticed. Thanks.” Bucky’s hands were shaking slightly as he took the watch; Steve’s heart leapt into his throat as Bucky’s fingertips brushed his palm. God, Steve had missed him. There was a creak from inside the house, and Bucky turned towards the sound before looking back to Steve with a sheepish expression. “Sorry, Steve, I have to go –”

A man slightly shorter than Bucky with ash blonde hair appeared in the doorway, arms crossed. He, too, was in a state of undress. “This guy trying to sell you something?” the man asked.

“He’s a friend.”

The man pressed a kiss to Bucky’s shoulder. “Come back to bed.” Steve jerked backwards in confusion.

“I’ll be there in a minute, Clint.” The man sighed, winking at Steve before retreating back into the house. Bucky made a face, ‘what can you do?’, and began to close the door.

“I’m in love with you, Bucky.” Oh God, why did he say that? The words had escaped without his permission, and he could feel a blush spreading across his face and down his neck. Bucky had opened the door again, but his expression was decidedly blank.  Steve took another deep breath. “Bucky –”

“I can't have this conversation shirtless, in full view of my neighbours, Steve,” Bucky crossed his arms as though trying to cover himself up. “I can't do this right now, Steve!”

“When can you have this conversation then? I miss you so much, Buck, I need to talk to you!” Steve’s voice cracked on Bucky’s name; he didn’t want to cry.

“What about what I need, Steve? I'm not even sure if I like guys, let alone if I like you in that way. I need time to, to process all this!”

Steve scowled. _“Clint_ seems to be doing a good job helping you with that first part.” Oh God, why did he say _that?_

“Go home, Steve.” The door closed, and Steve was left standing alone, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He felt like an idiot – he’d come here to try and fix things, not make them worse. Could they come back from this? He rode home the long way, through all the alleys and backroads, letting the wind take his thoughts. When he pulled up to his apartment he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

_From: Natasha_

_Don’t make plans for tomorrow, I'm bringing more takeout._


	3. Chapter 3

Steve drummed his fingers on the table top as he watched the steam rise from his mug; the butterflies who’d taken residence in his stomach meant he couldn’t keep still. That, and the fact that this was his fourth cup of coffee.

He'd read back over his text conversations with Bucky what felt like hundreds of times since they started talking again. It was a tedious process, but Steve couldn’t complain if that’s what it took to get his best friend back. As he sat in the diner he thought about scrolling through them again to pass the time – it a desperate attempt at distracting himself that would probably only serve to make him more nervous, but nevertheless he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

_From: Bucky_

_I don’t think I'm ready for this yet, Steve._

_To: Bucky_

_Okay! Just let me know when you're ready_ _J_

This particular conversation was nearly a month old. He couldn’t help but wince at his read his own reply: had he been too enthusiastic? Too casual? He was so immersed in overanalysing himself that he didn’t notice Bucky walk in; he jumped when Bucky slid into the booth.

“Hey,” Bucky said, giving Steve an awkward half-smile. During their time apart they’d lost the ease with which they used to communicate, their actions were stilted. Steve smiled back.

“I got you a hot chocolate,” Steve said, gesturing to a second mug on the table. “Extra whipped cream.” Bucky nodded in acknowledgement and wrapped his hands around the mug, his eyes roaming around the café to avoid looking at Steve. Steve was somewhat thankful for this – his emotions must be clear as day on his face. He made an effort to unfurrow his brow before he spoke.

“I don’t really know where to start with this, Buck,” Steve began. He’d thought about making notes on what he wanted to say but decided that would be too formal. “Things are obviously…different between us now. But we can't pretend like that night never happened. I don’t want to forget it, but I don’t want to lose you.”

“Because you're in love with me.” Bucky’s tone was matter of fact, unyielding; Steve felt like his was at a job interview. The notes might have been appropriate after all.

“You're my best friend, Bucky, you always have been. I've cheered with you, I've cried with you, I _just love_ you Bucky. If I lost you, I’d lose a part of myself as well.” They slipped into silence, considering the weight of Steve’s words.

Steve broke the silence. “Did you know how I felt about you? Before this, I mean.”

“I suspected.”

…

“How do you feel about me?”

Bucky took a deep breath before responding. “After that night I started thinking about you differently, and it kind of freaked me out.” His cheeks were turning pink, and Steve smiled in encouragement. He reached out to place his hand on top of Bucky’s, resting on the table, but thought better of it. Bucky’s shoulders seemed to relax ever so slightly. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

“I guess that turning up to your house and confessing my love to you probably didn’t help.” Steve laughed sheepishly, and the corners of Bucky’s mouth turned up. Silence enveloped them once more.

“I still think I need some time to figure things out.” Bucky’s voice lilted upwards at the end, making his statement sound more like a question.

“Whatever you need.”

“Okay,” Bucky nodded, more to himself than Steve. “How about we do this again next week?”

Steve smiled, hopeful, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “Sounds great.”

 

*

 

**FIVE YEARS LATER**

A pair of arms wrapped around Steve from behind; Steve rolled his eyes but turned into the embrace. “Bucky,” he chastised. “We’re not meant to see each other.”

Bucky made a face of dismissal. “Relax, you're not dressed yet, its fine.” He kissed Steve on the cheek.

“Sap.” Steve replied fondly before kissing Bucky on the lips. “Now go.”

Bucky sighed but let Steve go, throwing his hands in the air in surrender. “Okay, I'm going. I love you.” Bucky left the room, but walked back in a moment later, an exaggeratedly stern look on his face. He waggled his finger at Steve. “Don’t you leave me at the alter too!” he warned, before leaving for real.

Steve gasped. “Bucky!”


End file.
